“At this inflection point the world as we know it will change; real will mesh with virtual and life will bleed seamlessly into art until there are no longer any visible seams. Humankind will, at its Second Stage apex, become one with the machine, and will never look back.”

–Michael Gutenberg, Transformations: Book One

BEFORE

Outside the shell the machines were alive, swarming his flesh. They entered through his mouth and tumbled down his throat like a thousand tiny sand fleas, leaping and turning and wriggling, pumping oxygen into his lungs and cells, keeping his blood fresh and red. The nanomachines took to their duty like good little soldiers while the waveform manipulators washed his cortex, reading whatever blips remained and recording past histories.
His chest rose and fell, muscles twitched, an eyelid fluttered, and imagination took flight with the dreams of men.
Inside, all was still and dark and empty.

—–

“He’s gone, then?”
“Not quite. We can detect a bit of activity, but it’s not clear what’s left.”
“Could see it coming. He lost focus.”
“Love will do that to you.”
The figure standing before the glass sighed. “What was recovered, then?”
“Memories. Fragments. I’ll show you.”
The glass flickered as a holodeck unit hissed into life. The projected image showed a darkened room and a man strapped to a chair, arms cuffed behind his back. His head was down, and although his chest moved, he gave no indication of consciousness.
A second man entered the room on the screen, and a third. They approached the man in the chair, spoke in a Cantonese dialect and then one of them kicked the legs of the chair away so that the prisoner fell backward to the floor.
“Siu sam!” the other said. Be careful.
The other one laughed. “Nei bin do tung?” he said to the man in the chair. “Nei sui yiu hui chi soh ma?”
The man on the floor moaned. “Don’t,” he said. His voice was barely audible. “Please.”
“English?” The one who had kicked him stepped closer. “You no tell us who hire you, you hurt more. I take finger.” He took out a laser blade. “I cut one, two. Maybe more. Maybe here next.” He gestured to his own crotch. “You like?”
“I…” the prisoner tried to move away, pushing his legs weakly against the floor, but the chair kept him still. “I’ll tell you. Just please…”
“Yes?” The man with the blade leaned in. “You talk now. Name?”
Abruptly the man on the floor thrust up from his hips and lashed out with a vicious kick, his foot snapping the other man’s head back and driving the cartilage of his nose deep into his brain. He flexed his arms and the chair frame cracked, and as his adversary fell dead he was already free of the chair and looping his cuffed arms underneath and around his legs to his front.
The second man who had entered the room turned to run. The cuffed man was on him in seconds, flicking his hands over the fleeing man’s neck and pulling the chain taught.
The room fell silent, broken only by choking sounds that slowly died away and then a second body falling lifeless to the floor.
The cuffed man listened for a moment, and then returned to the first body and picked up the laser blade. A quick twist of the blade in his hands and the cuffs fell free.
He stood among the dead, and smiled.

—–

“Stop it there, please,” the man standing at the glass said. The holodeck image froze. “Impressive.”
“He was hired to take down a virus that had disabled half the east coast network. These men were members of the group who unleashed it. He went in afterward and killed the bug in record time, then found the rest of the group and terminated them. He was gone before they’d even started cleaning up the mess.”
“Hmmm. How do we know he’s not playing possum now?”
“His waveforms are practically flatlined.”
“We didn’t see this sort of effort here.”
“He’s been compromised. Lost focus, as you said. I have other examples of his skill—”
“No, that’s enough. You think we still need him. Can he be revived?”
“I don’t know.”
The man at the glass studied the prone figure on the table. “All right. We have what we want. If this is an insurance policy, have at it, whatever you need to do. Just don’t let the whole thing come back to bite us.”
The man stepped away and left the room. After a few moments the second man who had spoken approached the barrier. He stared in at the prisoner on the table. “Thank you,” he whispered.
As he watched the nanomachines do their work, his finger absently traced the circle and arrow pattern etched into the glass.

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